


Never Go To Bed Angry

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur won't stop talking, Eames just wants to sleep, Flos is a bad influence okay, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24489046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: “Darling,” Eames croaked.Arthur paused. “Yeah?”“I missed you terribly, but I have to be up early tomorrow. Do you think we could sleep?”“Oh.” Arthur shifted and pressed back against Eames. “Yeah. Sorry.”(Spoiler: Eames wasn't able to sleep. And no, it's not for the reason you're thinking.)
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 107





	Never Go To Bed Angry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flosculatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosculatory/gifts).



> For Flos, for being gorgeous and awesome and talented - oh and being ~older, too, I guess. 
> 
> But anyway, HEY remember this crack message you sent???  
>  _never go to bed angry: A/E are exhausted_  
>  _Ari: can you sleep in a chair?_  
>  _Arthur: I can’t sleep in a chair_  
>  _E: I can’t sleep if Arthur’s not asleep_  
>  _Ari: that’s cute?_  
>  _E: bc he bitches incessantly_

Eames had always believed that when he finally succeeded in wearing Arthur down and conning his way into Arthur’s bed, it would be an enjoyable, athletic evening that would end with Eames being booted, politely but firmly, from Arthur’s property. 

In reality, Arthur simply rolled over, sweaty and sticky, and muttered, “Don’t hog the blankets,” before dropping off to sleep.

Eames was touched. And also mildly concerned that Arthur would be sticking to the sheets by morning.

He gingerly climbed out of the bed and padded into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he was done, he brought back a washcloth for Arthur, and proceeded to stealthily wipe down his favorite point man. Arthur didn’t even twitch.

Eames climbed back into bed with him and spooned up behind Arthur, tucking an arm around his waist just because.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

*

Three months later, Eames fully understood how important their first night together was.

Arthur’s brain was large and powerful and always, _always_ running. It was what made him such a lethal point man — but it made him a very inconsiderate bedmate.

“They really didn’t catch that?” Arthur was saying. “The angles were completely wrong, and it wasn’t even continuous! If you want to make a Mobius strip, it should actually be, oh, I don’t know, a _strip._ ”

Eames yawned and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s waist, hoping the weight would calm him down or, at the very least, remind Arthur they were in bed for sleep.

“And the extractor made me run through the plan over and over like I’m some computer program and he can keep hitting enter, and then he didn’t even fucking _use it._ ”

Eames grunted noncommittally.

“And don’t even get me _started_ on the forger. She had nothing on you, Eames. She sneezed and turned into the hunchback of Notre Dame!”

“Darling,” Eames croaked.

Arthur paused. “Yeah?”

“I missed you terribly, but I have to be up early tomorrow. Do you think we could sleep?”

“Oh.” Arthur shifted and pressed back against Eames. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Eames kissed the back of his head and let his breathing deepen. Just as he was on the brink of sleep, Arthur stiffened slightly and said, “I have to run some more background checks tomorrow, I can’t forget. I’ll do it after I check the payment from this job, then…”

Eames sighed and wondered if Arthur would notice if he started wearing earplugs.

*

Arthur noticed the earplugs.

*

Arthur opened the fight with, “If you don’t want to talk to me that badly, Eames, then why bother staying the night at all?”

It only went downhill from there.

By the time the dust had cleared, Arthur was seething, Eames was hoarse, and neither could look each other in the eye. In truth, they had only stopped because a neighbor had called the police with a noise complaint.

Eames was grateful that Arthur hadn’t gotten around to pulling his gun yet. That would’ve been something to explain to the young rookie cop on their doorstep.

After they performed their _happy, not homicidal_ act and closed the door behind the cop, Arthur ran a hand through his hair and said, “Did you really tell me you loved me in the middle of our fight?”

“Maybe,” Eames said.

Arthur chuckled softly and shook his head. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted. “But I love you, too.”

They hugged and made up and pretended not to notice the debris littering the room.

“Does this mean I don’t have to ceremonially burn the earplugs?” Eames asked.

“Yes,” Arthur sighed. “You don’t have to burn the earplugs. I’m an asshole. I’ll try not to bitch in bed so much.”

“I forgive you,” Eames said with a smile. “Besides, you broke that hideous vase my Aunt Tabitha bought me. If I hadn’t already fallen in love with you, that would’ve clinched it.”

When they went to bed that night, Arthur stayed true to his word and didn’t spend hours bitching.

Eames kept the earplugs anyway. Just in case.

*

They settled into a rhythm after that, involving earplugs and snuggles.

Eames acknowledged that Arthur used his complaints as a way to decompress, but he also refused to give up a good night’s sleep, so he put in the earplugs every night when they climbed into bed, and Arthur tapped Eames’ shoulder twice if he actually had something to tell him.

The earplugs weren’t completely soundproof; they simply muffled noise enough that Eames could ignore it all. He quickly got used to falling asleep to the white noise of Arthur’s muffled voice, and the vibration of his chest when it pressed against Eames’ back.

It became a running joke between them, that the only time Eames slept around Arthur _without_ earplugs was when they were at work.

They stopped fighting over sleeping habits and instead focused their attention on more important things like whole milk versus one percent, and pizza for breakfast.

And one year, Arthur bought Eames a new pair of earplugs. In return, Eames bought Arthur a cheap notebook and decorated the cover in art and wrote in calligraphy _Bitch Book_. 

Thankfully, Arthur laughed. Eames didn’t have any more hideous vases from Aunt Tabitha to break.

*

“Hey, hey guys,” Ariadne called. “Can you sleep in a chair?”

Arthur pointedly looked at the chair he was currently sprawled in. He had just finished a test run with Eames that ended in an extremely fun game of cat and mouse. 

Eames had won it. He was going to gloat about that for weeks, minimum.

“No, like, without drugs,” Ari scoffed. “Can you sleep in a chair if you aren’t dreaming for work?”

“No,” Arthur answered, “I can’t.”

Ari turned to Eames. “Can you?”

“I can’t sleep unless Arthur’s asleep,” Eames said.

“Oh. Okay.” Ari blinked. “That’s cute?”’

“He bitches incessantly,” Eames continued. “It’s horrible, really.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Eames doesn’t put his dirty laundry in the hamper,” he told Ariadne. “We all have our flaws.”

“But Arthur’s is fixable with earplugs,” Eames confided. “Lots and lots of earplugs.”

Ari laughed and said, “Okay, I know what to get you for a gift now.”

“For what occasion?” Eames asked, intrigued.

“For all of them,” Ari answered. She hopped off the edge of Arthur’s desk and walked back over to her models. “You guys should get back to work,” she called over her shoulders. “Our point man doesn’t like it when we sit around chatting.”

“No, he saves all his talking for bedtime,” Eames agreed. 

Arthur sighed and looked at Eames. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered.

Eames blew him a kiss.


End file.
